


The Drawing of Maya Vie

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, After Season Three, Angst, F/M, Kabby, Lots of Angst, Sadness, Suicide, all the kabby, bellamy being bellamy, but also possibly murder, clarke being clarke, sad monty, season four does not exist yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 12:06:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10360083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tragedy strikes Arkadia and Clarke Griffin is right in the center of it. As a murder suspect, she must fight to prove her innocence to her friends, namely Monty Green and Raven Reyes, while balancing a secret with Bellamy Blake—who she may or may not be falling in love with. Meanwhile, Abby Griffin, battling her own personal demons and navigating a potential relationship with Marcus Kane, receives a horrifying surprise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I don't own the 100 or any of the characters  
> thanks for reading -Max

Raven Reyes paced back and forth in the hallway, occasionally reaching down to massage her leg. It still ached, but she was getting really good at managing the brace Wick had made her. 

She hadn't seen Kyle lately, and she was beginning to suspect that he had died in the City of Light. She hadn't gone to see the dead as they were wrapped and burned. Too much sadness. Too many memories. 

And Clarke just looked hollow. Raven knew what was bothering her, but she kept it to herself. It wasn't her place to panic. Though, as the days passed, and Clarke and Bellamy spent increasing amounts of time whispering, she had begun to grow more and more concerned. 

Which was why she was currently standing outside Abby Griffin's door, because if anyone could figure out what was going on with Clarke, it was her mother. 

As if on cue, the former chancellor threw the door open, looking harassed. Her hair was knotted and she was spinning the silver ring she always wore around her neck. 

"Raven?" She looked surprised, as if she were expecting someone else. 

"Abby. Can we talk? It's about Clarke."

Raven expected the familiar panicked look to flit across the woman's face when confronted with any unknown information about her daughter. But Abby just looked distracted, nodding as she waved Raven inside. 

"What's going on with Clarke?" Abby asked, closing the door. Her face was lined, more than usual, and she looked exhausted; not just stayed-up-too-late exhausted but tired down to her very soul. Raven's heart went out to her. 

"I was hoping you knew," Raven admitted.

Abby raised an eyebrow and sat carefully on the end of her bed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean—I don't know if she's told you—and I'm not really supposed to know," Raven floundered. "But she and Bellamy—"

"What?" Abby sat up straight. "Clarke? And Bellamy?"

"What? Oh, no, not like that." Raven shook her head. "No, I just mean, I think there's something going on with Clarke, and it's really taking a toll on her. I just want to know if she's okay."

There was a long pause. Raven folded her hands and tried not to think about how stupid what she had just said sounded. 

"I appreciate that, Raven," Abby said gently. "I think it's just the pain of losing Lexa, and I ought to be there for her more..."

"It's more than that." Raven tried to swallow. Her throat was dry. "It could affect all of us."

At that, Abby tore her gaze from the door and looked directly at Raven. "What are you talking about?"

Raven sighed. "I can't tell you."

Abby stood up. "Well, then, I guess I'll just have to go ask Clarke—"

"No!" Raven moved to block the door as fast as her leg would allow her to go. "Don't put any more pressure on Clarke than she already has on her. Bellamy's with her, and she's—"

A knock on the door cut Raven off and she hastily jerked away as Abby lunged for the handle. Kane stood on the other side, looking equally as drained as Abby. 

"Marcus." Abby looked slightly relieved. 

"That's my cue." Raven squeezed past Kane and emerged into the hallway. "Abby—be there for Clarke, please. But don't worry about her."

"I'm always worried about her," Abby said, and swung the door shut. 

 

……

 

Marcus walked to the window and stared out, shoving his hands in his pockets. "What was that about?"

"What?"

Marcus glanced at her. "Um, Raven? What else?"

Abby sighed and ran a hand through her light brown hair. "Sorry. Right. She's just...worried about Clarke."

Marcus chuckled softly. "Aren't we all."

Abby wandered aimlessly across the room, her eyes landing on random objects: a scalpel she had recently cleaned, her pillow cover, a cracked photograph of her, Jake, and Clarke. Clarke was about eight at the time, smiling her toothy smile, her face still round and her hair still blonde. Jake was the same as she'd always remembered him; smile like a ray of sunlight, piercing directly through the center of the ring into her heart. 

But Abby barely recognized the woman in the middle of the photo. Her eyes were so bright, her smile so wide. It was a different person, a different time, a different woman who hadn't floated her husband. 

"Abby."

She turned slowly, looking sideways at Marcus. 

"Abby, you are not yourself." He strode towards her and took her hand. "You're not still under the influence of the chip, right?"

Abby saw the horror in his eyes and shook her head. "Of course not."

"What's going on?" Marcus asked quietly. "Is it your leg? Is it Clarke? Talk to me, Abby."

"I..." Abby's knees trembled, threatened to give out. "I don't know."

Marcus's arms went around her, enveloping her carefully. For a moment, she leaned into him, hoping that the tears would finally come, that she'd be able to wail and grieve and face what she'd done to her people. To Marcus. She'd shoved a knife into her own daughter's chest. Twice.

But there were no tears, and so Abby stared blankly into Marcus's shoulder. 

He stepped back and looked at her. His expression changed from concerned to deeply worried. 

"Answer me honestly," he said. "Are you okay?"

Abby laughed humorlessly. "Are you?"

He looked down for a moment, and shook his head. "I don't think any of us are."

 

…

 

"Any luck?"

Raven sighed and spun her chair to face the dark-haired boy with the permanently serious expression standing in the corner. He had recently adopted a slightly shuffling gait and his shoulders were slumped. 

"No." Raven crossed her arms. "And you?"

Monty shook his head. He looked absolutely distraught, Raven thought, and she suddenly felt terrible for this boy that had always just been a casual acquaintance on the Ark but had slowly, over the months on the ground, become her good friend. 

"He's just...he won't talk to anyone. He keeps listening to Maya's iPod, over and over, and screaming if anyone tries to talk to him." Monty was trembling slightly. "I thought...I'm his best friend..."

"I'm sorry," Raven said quietly. "I know how much Jasper means to you."

Monty kicked the wall in frustration, leaving a scuff mark from his sneaker. "God. Damn it. I hate this. I hate that any of this happened, this whole thing with Mt. Weather. I hate that Maya died. I hate that Jasper has to suffer. I hate everything, Raven, I really do."

"He'll come around." Raven stared at the monitor in front of her. There was nothing but blue on the screen, but she just stared ahead. 

So Monty leaned on the desk and stared with her. 

…

 

"This is bullshit."

Bellamy slammed his fist against the wall for at least the thirtieth time. Clarke had jumped the first three times, but then had started ignoring his frequent temper tantrums. 

"We have to tell my mom," Clarke said finally. "Or Kane. Or..."

She didn't finish the sentence, but Bellamy connected the dots. Jaha, she had been about to say. But that wasn't an option anymore.

"No, we do not," Bellamy said firmly. "No. Bad idea."

"Bell."

Bellamy glanced pointedly in the opposite direction. Clarke sighed. 

"Why not?" she asked again. 

"They'll feel the need to tell everyone. Cueing mass panic." Bellamy folded his arms. "Remember the last time?"

"Which time?" Clarke was out of her seat so fast she almost knocked it over. "The time with Mount Weather? The culling? My father being floated? Which time, Bellamy?"

"Hey." 

Both kids jumped as Kane entered the airlock, shutting the door behind him. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," Bellamy answered evenly. 

Kane regarded them both. "You should go see your mom," he told Clarke. 

"What? Why? Did something happen?" Clarke asked anxiously. 

"I think a visit from you would do her some good," Kane said abruptly. The worry in his eyes betrayed his clipped words, and Clarke was out of the airlock before Bellamy could protest, darting down the halls to find Abby. 

Kane sat in Clarke's abandoned chair. "She's stubborn," he commented. "She's a lot like her mother."

"How is Abby?" Bellamy's voice was stony, but then again, it was always like that. 

"About the same."

They sat quietly for a moment before Bellamy broke the silence.

"You really love her, don't you?" 

It wasn't a loaded question, but Kane jumped on the defensive. 

"What makes you think that?" he snapped. 

Bellamy just stared at him as if he were simpleminded. 

"The way you look at her," he said. "It's so obvious."

Kane sighed heavily. "Yes."

Bellamy's lips twitched. "Does she know?"

"I don't know." Kane stared at the floor. "I thought...I kissed her once, before she was taken by ALIE, but...we didn't really get a chance to talk after that." He looked up at the boy sitting next to him. "Why am I telling you this?"

"Because I'm here." Bellamy leaned back in his chair. "And I understand what it feels like to love someone who has no idea."

Kane glanced at him. "I get the feeling you're not talking about Gina."

Bellamy shook his head. 

 

…

 

"God, Monty, you're shaking."

"It's cold in here," Monty pointed out. 

"Ha." Harper leaned forward and kissed him. "Want me to warm you up?"

Monty grinned. "I was going to try and talk to Jasper again, but if you have other plans..."

The door burst open and Monty stood up as Raven exited Jasper's room, pulling the door shut behind her. 

"Well?" Monty demanded. "Can I go in there? Is he okay?"

Raven's face was a mask of complete shock and horror. 

"No," she whispered. "Go get Kane. Right now."

"What? Raven—"

"GO!” she yelled. 

"I'll go," Harper said quickly. 

"No," Raven said stonily. "Let Monty go."

Monty shoved Raven out of the way. "Jasper? Jasper!"

"NO!" Raven screamed as Monty opened the door. 

There was blood on the ceiling. 

Blood on the floor. 

Blood on the walls. 

And a body, sprawled in the middle of it, barely recognizable, with a gun in his right hand. 

Monty felt his entire world shatter around him. 

He couldn't remember anything after that except in brief flashes—the sound of agonized screaming, his throat raw and scraped. Harper, tears streaming down her face, begging him to look at her. 

Eventually he had. 

And he'd broken down into wracking sobs, holding her as if she were the only thing left in the world. 

 

…

 

Kane ran off to find the source of the screaming, but Bellamy didn't want to know. So he sat in the airlock, spinning Clarke's pen, his eyes tracing over her hand-drawn map of Arkadia. 

She'd labeled all of their rooms. CLARKE. ABBY. KANE. OCTAVIA. MILLER/BRYAN. JASPER. MONTY. HARPER. RAVEN. BELLAMY. 

His eyes landed on his own name. Traced the curling script. 

Another guttural scream echoed from down the hall. Bellamy threw down the pen and ran out of the airlock, swinging his gun over his shoulder. 

"Oh my God," someone whimpered up ahead. 

"No!" Kane was yelling up ahead. "Stand down, everyone! STAND DOWN! There is no intruder here!"

"Out of the way," Bellamy barked, shoving through the crowd of people, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on. 

He caught a glimpse of Clarke's face, streaked with tears, and fought harder, altering his course to get to her. 

"Is it your mother?" 

She shook her head. "It's Jasper," she gasped. 

That threw him off. "Jasper? Jasper Jordan?"

Clarke didn't answer. 

Bellamy grabbed her hand and she walked forward, towards Jasper's door. His mind flashed to the carefully lettered label on the map. 

JASPER. 

And then Bellamy saw the body, saw Monty crouched next to it, saw Harper trying to console the inconsolable. 

"Oh my God."

Clarke let out a sob and he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. She pressed her face into his shoulder, and he could feel her tears soaking through his thin t-shirt. He rested his chin on top of her head, because she was just the perfect height. 

"God, Bellamy, your chin is sharp," Clarke mumbled through the mess of tears. 

And despite everything, Bellamy wanted to laugh. 

 

…

 

The door swung open but Abby barely cracked an eyelid. Outside it was blindingly bright, but she didn't need her eyes to adjust to make out the figure standing in her doorway. 

He looked absolutely miserable, and despite her stupor, she sat up. "Marcus?"

"Jasper Jordan is dead," he said bluntly, slamming the door shut behind him and flicking on a light. "God, Abby, it's pitch-black in here."

"What?" Abby's head spun. "Slow down. Jasper? Maya's Jasper? Clarke's friend Jasper?"

"The only Jasper in Arkadia," Marcus said tiredly. "Clarke was on her way to see you when she found out."

"I should—" Abby stood up and made her way to the door. 

"She'll be okay. She's with Bellamy."

"So soon after Lexa? There's no way she's okay with losing someone else close to her." Abby pushed open the door. "I just...my eyes need to adjust."

"Hey." Marcus grabbed her hand. "You don't need to play the hero today."

"I'm her mother."

"And she'll come to you when she needs you," he said gently. "You're tired. Rest."

"One condition," she said, knowing he was right. 

"You want me to go talk to her?" Marcus headed for the door, not wanting to impose any longer. "I'll tell her to—"

"Stay with me," she said softly. "Until I fall asleep."

"Of course." He looked surprised. 

So he sat next to her, and listened to her breathing slowly even out until it was deep and quiet. 

 

…

 

They sat around the fire, the five of them. Clarke, Bellamy, Raven, Monty and Harper. 

"I just wish I could have helped him," Monty said. 

"I don't think any of us could have," Raven said tiredly. "Jasper...I think a part of him died when Maya did."

"He was happy in the City of Light," Clarke said bitterly. 

"Was he?" Monty looked up, meeting her eyes. "Was he really happy?"

"I saw him," she said. "He was eating ice cream. And smiling."

Monty closed his eyes. 

"I'm sorry," Clarke whispered. 

"Don't be. At least he was happy. If only for a few days," Monty said. 

"Clarke." Bellamy's hand found hers. "I hope you don't think you made the wrong decision."

Clarke shook her head. "It's just...all those people, Bellamy. Lexa."

Harper and Monty were whispering on the other side of the fire, and Raven had gotten up to get something to eat. 

"Look at me," Bellamy said fiercely. "Every time I wonder if we did the right thing, I see those scars on your chest from where your mother, under the influence of that God-forsaken A.I., stabbed you. And I remember why it was the right decision."

Clarke took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay."

"Don't make the same mistakes I did," Bellamy said absently. "Trust your instincts."

Clarke glanced up at him briefly. "And what do your instincts say, Bellamy Blake?"

He watched her as she warmed her hands in front of the fire—her bright blue eyes, her pale hair, her round face, and somehow, his eyes kept drifting to her lips. 

She looked up again and smiled slightly. "I guess you don't have any instincts. You're kind of an emotionless cactus sometimes."

"Oh, I have emotions," Bellamy said dryly. "I have plenty of emotions."

"Anger," Clarke teased. "Protectiveness...of Octavia, mostly. Of Arkadia in general." She tapped her boot against a rock. "And sometimes you come out with some genuine friendliness, and it's really nice. I wish you'd do that more often."

"I think I can handle that."

"Great." Clarke's shoulder found his and she let out a breath. 

"You should sleep," Bellamy said. "You're exhausted."

"It's so warm over here," Clarke protested. Under other circumstances, she would have gone already, but she was tired and miserable, and not quite ready to let go of the rare side of Bellamy that emerged every once in a while. 

"No one said you had to leave."

Clarke yawned. "Fine, but I'm using you as a pillow."

"Oh, yeah? Who said I gave you permission?"

Clarke laughed, but she was soon dozing against his shoulder. He caught her as she slumped forward and laid her head on his knee. 

"I'm not sleeping," she complained drowsily. 

Bellamy smoothed a strand of hair out of her face. "Whatever you say, Griffin."

He waited until he was sure she was deeply asleep before carefully kissing her forehead and closing his eyes, leaning back against the tree behind him. The fire burned low, illuminating the backs of his eyelids. And inside his head, the only thing he could see was Clarke. 

…

 

Sometime before dawn, Abby awoke. 

She thought he would leave as soon as she was asleep, but he was there, fast asleep, sprawled awkwardly on top of the covers. She suspected he hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he was equally as tired as she was. 

As if on cue, his eyelids fluttered open. It took a moment, but he finally registered her and his eyes widened. 

"I fell asleep," he gasped. "I'm sorry—"

Abby leaned forward and spontaneously kissed him, cutting off his apology. "Thank you," she whispered. 

Marcus chuckled and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, she thought he was asleep, but then he spoke. 

"Sometimes I think I know how you feel about me, and then you completely surprise me."

“My feelings for you change every day,” Abby mumbled. “But they never diminish.”

Marcus laughed softly. "Does this mean we're going to be okay?"

"Maybe we're getting there," she whispered, and curled up against him, falling into a deep sleep. 

 

…

 

Clarke woke with the sun and her head resting on someone's knee. 

She sat up. The fire was long gone, and she was curled up next to Bellamy, who was sprawled next to a tree, his hair a tangled mess and his eyes closed. As the sun shifted, a beam of light landed directly on his eyelid. 

"Jesus," he muttered without opening his eyes, turning his head away from the light. 

Clarke yawned. "Rise and shine. I guess we fell asleep here by accident."

"I didn't really want to go inside," Bellamy grumbled, sitting up carefully. "But next time I think I'll bring a blanket."

"Hey!"

They glanced up. Octavia was jogging over to them, her hair tied back in a braid and her sword slung over her shoulder. 

"We're burning Jasper's body tonight," she said directly to Clarke and without preamble. "I just thought you should know."

"Thanks," Bellamy said. Octavia didn't even look at him. 

"Thank you," Clarke sighed. 

"O." Bellamy scrambled to his feet, but she'd already stalked away. 

"She'll come around," Clarke said quietly. 

"Do I even deserve it?" Bellamy stared after his sister, leaning his forehead against the trunk of the tree. 

"I guess that's something you should decide," Clarke said. "But you'll always be worth it to me."

 

…

 

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Harper crouched in the rear of the Rover. "I don't have to go."

Monty sighed. "Go. You're already missing one, since Kane's a no-show. I'll be fine."

"You're sure."

He nodded. 

"I'll be back by tonight," she promised. "For the ceremony."

He didn't really want to think about the funeral. He kissed her quickly and stepped away from the vehicle. "Good luck."

"Thanks." She gave him a small smile. "Okay, let's go!”

The door opened and Monty watched the Rover drive away, out the gate and into the forest. 

Raven sighed and ducked her head. "I'm going to go patch a frayed wire," she said. "Do you want to help?"

Monty appreciated the offer, but he knew she didn't really need the help; she just wanted to keep him busy, and not thinking about...whatever had happened to Jasper. "No thanks."

She strode off without another word. 

He almost went after her, but another task was tugging at his attention. With a steeled determination, he headed off in the direction of Jasper's room. 

 

…

 

"Who was Jasper, again?"

John Murphy had been facing the window, but he turned back to the girl in the center of the room with the long, dark hair. She had swirling tattoos across her face and one of her hands was covered by a long, dark glove. 

"The crazy one," Murphy said finally. Bluntly. "Shaved head, ex-girlfriend's iPod, alcoholic..."

"Oh, him." Emori frowned. "And he..."

"Shot himself, apparently. Right through the head." Murphy stared out the window again. "God, if I'd done that, no one would be making that big a deal. They almost hung me themselves."

He swallowed as his gaze landed on a dark-haired boy by a tree. Bellamy Blake, the biggest pain in his ass about a year ago. Now...maybe the fourth biggest. And next to him, Clarke Griffin, who was currently in the running for number one. 

"That's not true." Emori fixed him with a sharp look. 

"Other than you, then," Murphy said dryly. 

"John."

Murphy raised an eyebrow as she approached, one hand resting on her hip, the other by her side. 

"After everything I went through to save your ass while you were floating around in Jaha's twisted utopia, I'm not throwing all that away," he said. "So don't worry about me. I'm not going anywhere."

"You'd better not," Emori said grimly, but she was smiling. 

 

…

 

Somehow they ended up not moving. They passed a bottle of water and an apple back and forth for breakfast, just talking. 

Bellamy started by bringing up Gina. It was something he didn't typically talk about, but he felt like Clarke should know. He told her about the night they started dating, how they figured out she shared a birthday with his mother, how funny she was. How she was stabbed to death, trying to help Raven with launch codes. 

And in turn, Clarke told him about Lexa. It hurt her to talk about it, but she told him about the first time they met. The first time Lexa kissed her. How she watched Lexa die.

And then when Lexa saved her in the City of Light...and died again, charging into battle to protect her. 

By the time they were finished trading stories, the apple was reduced to a core, the water was long gone, and their hands were clasped tightly. The sun rose higher and higher above their heads as the people of Arkadia began to emerge. 

"Should we get back to work?" Bellamy asked, gathering the apple core and chucking it into the fire pit. 

"I have to go visit my mom," Clarke said. "I should have yesterday, but..."

But Jasper, she was about to say. She didn't need to. 

"Go, then," Bellamy said. "I'll see you in the airlock in an hour."

Clarke nodded and headed off towards the door. 

 

…

 

Marcus planned to leave before Abby awoke, but it didn't exactly work out that way. In fact, he slept later than he had in weeks, and by the time his eyes finally flickered open, Abby was standing by the window, looking as if she had been awake for hours. 

"Damn it." Marcus sat up. "I was going to leave before you woke up."

"You looked so peaceful." Abby turned to face him, and for the first time in a long time, she almost smiled. "I didn't want to wake you."

Marcus had no reply to that, or to anything that had happened. He had a brief recollection of kissing her that he thought might have been a dream, but he didn't want to clarify in case it was. 

"I should get ready for patrols," he said. "What time is it? Harper, Miller and Kim were going to take the Rover, and I'm supposed to go with them—"

"They left an hour ago," she said. "It's afternoon."

Marcus swore and headed to the window to look up at the sun. Sure enough, it was headed more towards the west than the east. "How did I sleep that long? Did you sleep okay?"

"Better sleep than I've had in a long time," Abby said quietly. "Marcus—thank you. I think it really helped, having you here."

"I'm always here for you."

Their eyes met and held, and he shook his head and glanced out the window, unable to look at her. 

"I have to ask—because if it was a dream—but it felt so real—"

And then, finally, Abby smiled. And leaned forward. And kissed him again. 

"That?" she asked. 

"I guess not, then," he laughed. 

 

…

 

Clarke paused outside the door. She'd not been to see her mother yet (because her mother was clearly visible from the window, and she had no desire to intrude on whatever romantic moment she and Kane were having), and Bellamy had given her an hour. So she decided to go see how Monty was faring. 

"Hey." Clarke pushed open the door to the electrical room. "Monty?"

"Monty's not here." A head popped up from over a tangle of green wires, wearing a pair of protective goggles. Raven. "Why?"

"I..." Clarke leaned awkwardly on the doorframe. "I wanted to see how he was."

"Better go check on your mother," Raven warned. "She's looked like a ghost for the past couple of days."

"I tried, but I'm pretty sure she and Kane are making out or something," Clarke sighed. "That is something my eyes will never be prepared for."

Raven snorted. “That, I don’t blame you for.”

Clarke shuddered. "Can we move on?"

Raven pulled the goggles off her head. Somehow, her hair still looked immaculate. Clarke absently touched a hand to her own dirty, frizzy hair. "Yeah. You wanted to know how Monty was? He's a goddamn wreck."

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut. "Do you know where he is?"

"Avoiding everyone. I'd check his room," Raven added, "if I were you."

"Yeah." Clarke sighed. "Okay."

"Good luck." Raven pulled the goggles back on. 

"Hey, Raven?"

The goggles lifted. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime, Wanheda." 

There was something strange in Raven's face and the way she said it, but Clarke headed in the direction of Monty's room without thinking on it further. 

 

…

 

"Oh, look who's here," Murphy said sardonically, leaning out his doorway as Clarke passed by. "The mighty Wanheda."

Clarke spun. "Why does everyone here keep calling me that?"

"Raven keeps calling you Wanheda behind your back, so it caught on." He smiled angelically. "Maybe if you didn't kill so many people—"

"Clarke?"

Clarke turned again. Monty was standing in the hallway, looking absolutely horrified. 

"Hold that thought," Clarke snapped at Murphy. "I'm off to kill some people. And by all means, keep making jokes about Mount Weather, or the City of Light, because that's so appropriate."

"Who said anything about Mount Weather?" He lingered in the hall, watching as Clarke followed Monty down the hall. 

They passed Monty's room just out of earshot of Murphy. "Monty, where are we—" Clarke started, but Monty swung right into the next room. 

Jasper's room. 

The blood had evidently been cleaned off everything except the ceiling, where a few drops hung in ominous-looking miniature stalactites. 

"Monty," Clarke whispered. But Monty didn't even seem to notice the blood as he headed straight for Jasper's desk. 

There was a folded piece of paper. Written on the front was the date two weeks ago, and MONTY. 

"What is that?"

"Take a guess."

"But..." Clarke slid the paper towards her. "Jasper died yesterday. This is from two weeks ago. Which means..."

"This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision," he said softly. "This was planned for at least two weeks. Probably longer."

"We..." Clarke struggled to find words. "He wouldn't talk to anyone. We tried to help him..."

"Not hard enough." Monty reached over and flipped open the paper. 

There was no note. Instead there were four scribbled words and a sketch of a girl with dark, wavy hair and a wide smile. 

Don't forget about her, it read. 

It was an exact likeness of Maya, down to the curve of her lip. Clarke couldn't help but stare, thinking that the artwork looked so familiar, but she couldn't figure out how. 

"So tell me," Monty said flatly. "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" Clarke glanced up. 

He was trembling with rage suddenly, advancing towards her. "Kill Jasper."

Clarke almost choked. "What? Okay, the Wanheda jokes have gone way too far—"

"Jasper isn't a joke," Monty spat. 

"I caught that," Clarke said coldly. "Why do you think I killed Jasper, exactly?"

"I know all about your plans," Monty hissed. "Sacrificing a whole bunch of people to save the rest of us? It's bullshit, Clarke. Don't you remember the Culling? When, let's see, how many people died? Three hundred!"

Clarke opened her mouth, but Monty rolled right over her. "So Jasper's disposable, right? He's a grieving drunk? He gets in the way of your stupid plans. So you fake his suicide." He was shaking his head. "I almost didn't believe it of you. I trusted you."

"What?" Clarke took a step back. "I'm sorry, what makes you think I killed Jasper?"

"This." Monty held up the drawing. "This drawing has your art style written all over it."

"What? I—"

"You penned the note two weeks ago, but didn't get a chance to kill him until yesterday. In fact, I bet Bellamy helped you with it." Monty was hissing with rage. 

"I didn't draw that!" Clarke shouted. Tears were forming now, and she almost cried in frustration. "I didn't kill Jasper!"

"Tell that to everyone who thinks you did," Monty said quietly, and stormed out the door, not bothering to shut it behind him. 

 

…

 

When Clarke didn't show up after an hour, Bellamy began to worry. 

Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. He had begun to worry when Abby and Kane emerged from Abby's room with no sign of Clarke anywhere near them. He figured she'd realized they were having a moment and given them their space, but that didn't change the fact that she'd effectively disappeared. Raven, in her entirely unhelpful Raven way, had mumbled something about Monty before ordering him out so she could focus. In hindsight, Bellamy thought she was acting very strange, but didn't dwell on it as he headed off to go find Monty. 

"Your girlfriend's in trouble," Murphy sang from the doorway of his room. 

"Dude, do you have nothing else to do?" Bellamy turned to face him, not bothering to point out that Clarke was most definitely not his girlfriend. 

"Well, Emori's asleep, so, no," Murphy shrugged. "But seriously, I heard a lot of yelling from Monty. He thinks you and Clarke killed Jasper. Just a friendly tip-off."

"He WHAT?" Bellamy shouted. 

Murphy smirked. "Take it up with him. Don’t shoot the messenger."

"And Clarke?"

"What about her?"

"Where is she?"

"Jasper's room." Murphy detached himself from the wall and fell into step with Bellamy. 

"And just where the hell do you think you're going?"

Murphy shrugged. "I got nothing else to do.”

"So go tell tales to Raven about how we're all cold-blooded murderers," Bellamy snapped. 

Murphy's eyebrows raised, but he said nothing. 

"She already thinks we killed him, doesn't she," Bellamy said hollowly. 

"Shit outta luck, pal. Hey, by the way, did you and Raven ever—" 

Bellamy shoved him into an open doorway and slammed the door. Unfortunately, it wasn't locked, so Murphy was beside him again in seconds. 

"You didn't answer the question."

"Get a life," Bellamy muttered, trying the handle of Monty's door before pounding on it. "Hey. Monty. MONTY."

There was no answer. Bellamy kicked once at the door before hissing in frustration. 

"I did say Jasper's room," Murphy pointed out. 

Bellamy glared but reluctantly stalked down the hallway—Clarke could be anywhere, and while he didn't want to potentially leave her with someone who thought she murdered their best friend, he didn't want to leave any stone unturned, either. 

And sure enough, she was sitting at Jasper's desk, sketching intently. Her hair was tied back, unusually, and her face was marked with tears. 

"Found her," Murphy said unnecessarily. 

Bellamy ignored him, sliding into a seat next to Clarke. "Hey. What's going on?"

Clarke took a deep breath. "Monty thinks I killed Jasper," she whispered. 

"It's not just Monty," Bellamy muttered. "The peanut gallery over there informed me that Raven thinks so too."

"What? But I talked to Raven this morning!" Clarke dropped her pencil. "I can't believe this. I really cannot believe this."

"What are you drawing?" Bellamy moved her arm slightly. 

"This is Jasper's suicide note." Clarke picked up a piece of paper next to her and flipped it open. Bellamy glanced at it; it was a pencil sketch of Maya, Jasper's ex-girlfriend. "Monty's convinced I drew it."

Bellamy frowned. "I know you didn't. But...this looks an awful lot like your art style."

Clarke held up the piece of paper she was drawing on. It was another drawing of Maya with a very similar style, and the initials CG at the bottom. 

"This is mine," she said, laying it down next to the note. "It's...eerily similar."

"Jasper couldn't have taken a drawing you did and written that on it, could he?" Bellamy pointed to the short note Jasper had written on the paper. "Also...that's definitely Jasper's handwriting. And we could prove it, with a writing sample."

"Do you really think Monty will listen to reason?" Clarke asked tiredly, resting her forehead on the back of her hand. 

Bellamy's hand landed on her shoulder. "I think reason's the only thing he will listen to."

Clarke shook her head. "I still didn't draw that."

"I know." Bellamy squeezed her shoulder and stood up. "Come on. Help me look for a handwriting sample. And, who has access to pencils here? We're going to prove you didn't kill Jasper."

…

 

Raven was getting very, very annoyed at the constant interruptions to her work. But this time, she tamped down her irritation and faced the boy standing in the doorway. 

"She denied it," Monty said hollowly. "Complete and utter denial."

"That's not like Clarke. Clarke is a lot of things, but she's not a liar." Raven stood up, setting her goggles on the table. 

"She did it. That drawing—"

"Could have been someone intentionally copying Clarke's style," Raven suggested. "I just can't think of anyone else that good."

"The date?"

"He could have written that date out two weeks ago and decided not to until yesterday," Raven said gently. "It's not Clarke's handwriting, Monty. 

"Why is my name on the front?" 

"Because it's for you." Raven strode past Monty into the hallway.

"Where are you going?"

"To talk to Clarke," she called. 

"She's just going to lie to you," Monty warned.

"We'll see about that." Raven slammed the door before Monty could reply, hurrying for the end corridor. 

As she approached Jasper's door, there was nothing but silence. She peeked around the door. 

Empty. 

She crept in and shut the door behind her, surveying the room. 

The room was clean, in a cluttered sort of way. She guessed that no one had messed with Jasper's stuff yet, meaning he had to be the one that cleaned his room last. It wasn't a Jasper sort of thing to do, unless he knew there would be people in the room. 

Frowning, Raven surveyed the floor. Faint bloodstains still survived whoever had washed the floor, and horrifying though it was to look at, the patterns told her all she needed to know. 

And then...the drawing. There were two drawings of Maya on the desk. One had the initials CG on the bottom, freshly scratched in, and Raven knew immediately that Clarke had drawn it. Clarke tended to darken her lines more than she needed to, Raven thought, and these were practically imprinted into the desk. This, undoubtedly, was Clarke's drawing. 

As for the other one...

It was shockingly similar, Raven had to admit. But as she looked closely, the shading was different, the hair was straighter, the eyebrows thinner, the nose slightly longer. Whoever had drawn the picture on the note hadn't known Maya well, while Clarke's drawing seemed to capture Maya's essence as well as her image. 

And the handwriting on the note was sloppy and stick-straight. Jasper's writing. Not anything like Clarke's curling script. 

Satisfied, Raven tucked the two drawings into her jacket, taking care not to smudge them, and left the room. 

 

…

 

"Bellamy."

Octavia stood in the entrance to Arkadia, her face freshly inked and her sword strapped to her back. She looked absolutely furious. 

"O?"

"Tell me it isn't true," she snarled. "Tell me you haven't sunk that low."

"What the hell did I do?"

"Defending a murderer?" Octavia jerked her chin towards Clarke, who was crouched by the fire pit, looking miserable. 

"You've been drinking the Kool-Aid. You actually believe that Clarke killed Jasper?"

"You don't?"

"Why the hell would Clarke kill Jasper?"

"Because her little secret agenda isn't as secret as she thinks," Octavia spat. "Because Jasper was a giant pain in the ass, and we all knew it. But that's no reason to murder him."

"BELLAMY!" 

Bellamy glanced up. Raven was fast-limping towards him. 

"What?" he yelled. "Come to tell me you're disgusted with me, too?"

"No. I'm here to tell you that you're right," she said breathlessly, pulling two pieces of paper out of her pocket. "Listen up, Octavia, because you'll want to hear this too."

"Should I get Clarke?" Bellamy asked, glancing over at her. 

"Don't bother, I'll tell her later." Raven unfolded one of the sheets and handed it to Bellamy, quickly unfolding the other. They all sat on the dusty ground and spread the papers side by side. 

"That one is Clarke's," Raven said. "It's got her initials on it, and its in her style. See how she likes to make her lines way too dark? She does that with all her drawings—"

"Can you cut back on the sarcastic commentary?" Bellamy growled. 

"Just an observation. So then, you've got the shading here. Clarke usually shades both sides of the nose, like so." Raven pointed to Clarke's drawing. "Whoever drew this only did one side. And the eyebrows are thinner, and the nose is longer, and the hair is different. This one doesn't look like Maya."

Bellamy squinted. "You're...right, actually."

"Hmm." Octavia crossed her arms, unconvinced. 

"Someone here has a very similar art style to Clarke," Raven concluded. "I think it's safe to say it wasn't Jasper. But that doesn't necessarily mean we have a murderer on our hands."

"How do you know that?" Octavia snapped. 

"I don't." Raven struggled to her feet. "Okay. I'm going to go find Monty."

"Good luck with that one." Octavia spun and headed for the gate. 

At that moment, there were shouts and the gate opened to admit the Rover, careening through the gates and into Arkadia. 

"CLOSE IT UP!" Kane shouted, but not soon enough. Octavia ducked out through the gate and took off running through the woods. 

Bellamy sighed. 

"She'll be fine."

A calm voice spoke behind him. It was Clarke, of course, because only Clarke ever snuck up on him like that. 

"So will you," he answered. 

"They all think I'm a murderer," Clarke muttered. 

"Raven's trying to fix that."

She raised an eyebrow. 

"Your plan worked. She compared the drawings and agreed that you didn't draw the first one."

"How can she tell? I can barely tell."

"Something along the lines of 'Clarke likes to make her lines too thick.'"

"Nice. Although, I guess that's better than being called a murderer."

Bellamy quirked a half-smile, staring out past the gates where Octavia was still barely visible in the trees. 

"You worry about her," Clarke observed. 

"Octavia can take care of herself," Bellamy said. "Of course I worry about her. My sister, my responsibility. But it's you I worry about most."

"Why?" she asked quietly. "Why me?"

Bellamy sighed. "I..."

She raised an eyebrow. 

"I don't know," he mumbled. 

"I don't need worrying about," Clarke informed him. "I can take care of myself."

"Clarke, you're the strongest person I know. It's losing you I'm worried about."

"Wow. Bellamy Blake, expressing emotion?" Clarke joked. 

"Even cacti sometimes have feelings."

Talking to Clarke was so easy, he thought, as he caught her in a much-needed hug. 

Now, he thought, if only I could kiss her. 

 

…

 

Raven sighed loudly. She'd radioed at least six times, but Monty still hadn't shown up. So she'd spread the sheets out again on the desk and pored over them again. Something was bugging her, but she wasn't sure what it was. 

Then it hit her—Clarke's drawing was a copy. 

Clarke's drawing, she reasoned, was obviously derived from the original in an attempt to prove her innocence. And her innocence, Raven was sure of. Her style...

They were distinctive, Raven thought, and yet so similar that it was almost like it wasn't only the image derived from the original, but the style itself. 

Where would Clarke have learned someone else's art style?

And then she knew. 

 

…

 

"I wouldn't worry," Abby said. "Octavia is smart. She knows where Indra is."

Marcus glanced out the window as if he suspected Octavia was there. "She's brilliant," he agreed. "But that won't stop her from getting killed by a rogue Grounder, or whatever new enemy we're facing these days."

"She's getting good with that blade, though, don't you think?" Abby smiled at his worried expression. "You're starting to think of her as a sort of daughter."

"I think of all of these kids as almost like my children," he said seriously. "It's not something I signed up for."

"You care about them because you're a good human being."

"Am I?" 

"Yes," she said firmly. 

There was a series of staccato knocks, and then Raven came flying in with a wild look in her eyes. 

Abby jumped to her feet. "Raven? What—"

"Sorry, I know you guys might have been having sex or whatever but this is really, really important," she said all in one breath. 

Marcus looked scandalized. "I—"

"I need you to draw me something," Raven said. "A person, preferably a girl. Me, or Clarke, or Octavia, or anyone. From memory."

Abby raised an eyebrow. "What's this for?"

"Your daughter," Raven said, backing out of the doorway. "If you care about your daughter, you'll do this to the best of your ability."

The door shut and Abby and Marcus stared at each other, unable to comprehend what had just happened. 

"I guess I'd better..." Abby started. "Oh, God, is Clarke okay? I—"

Marcus wrapped his arms around her. "I'll go check on Clarke," he said quietly. "Just assume everything's fine for now."

"Raven said—" Abby pointed out. 

"And that's exactly why I'm going to find out what's going on." He kissed her on the forehead. "I'll see you at dinner."

Abby nodded. He turned and headed for the door, only breaking into a jog when he was around the corner. 

 

…

 

The first time Clarke had started thinking of Bellamy as more than just her best friend was when they were helping everyone to fight their way out of Mount Weather. She could have sworn, then, that there was something more. But then Bellamy had started going out with Gina, and Clarke had fallen in love with Lexa, and she'd moved on. 

But now...she was almost afraid of falling in love with Bellamy. The people she loved had a curious habit of ending up dead. 

And yet...

She glanced to her right, where his perpetually stoic presence was currently toasting Harper's stash of marshmallows from Mount Weather. 

"They didn't have these on the Ark," he grinned. 

"They look disgusting," Clarke remarked. 

"Open your eyes, Griffin." He offered her the stick. 

She took a tentative bite, then squinted. "Wow. That's...sugary."

"What did you think it was going to taste like?"

"It looks kind of like Tofu Tuesday."

Bellamy laughed. "I'd forgotten about that. Tofu Tuesday...Octavia's favorite. Mostly because no one else wanted theirs."

"I can't imagine why," Clarke said dryly.

He seemed happy, she thought. It was different. 

On the other side of the fire, Raven and Abby were talking in low voices. Clarke strained to try to eavesdrop, but it was no use. 

"That looks intense," Bellamy remarked, following her gaze. 

All of a sudden, both of them spun to look at Clarke. Raven nodded: yes, come on over, and Clarke rose to her feet. 

"I drew it," Abby said without preamble as soon as she sat. 

"You—you drew Maya?" Clarke was flabbergasted. "Why?"

"It was for Jasper, after he lost Maya," Abby said. She shook her head. "I never dreamed he'd use it as a suicide note."

Slowly, it sank in. The drawing style was so similar because it was her mother's. 

"Did you tell Monty?" Clarke asked. 

"He knows. He'll apologize later...he can't bring himself to talk to you right now," Raven told her. 

Clarke followed her gaze to where Monty was sitting against the outside wall with Harper, looking lost to the world. 

"I think Murphy owes her an apology," Bellamy pointed out, joining the circle. "He's been making cracks all day."

"Doesn't matter." Clarke stood up. "Let's go. It's time."

The last rays of light disappeared from the sky as Arkadia gathered around Jasper's body. Torches were offered to Monty and Raven. They each lit one in the fire. The world was quiet. 

"In peace may you leave the shore," Kane began. "In love may you find the next."

Clarke glanced around. The faces were somber as they stood around the pile of timber with the cloth bundle in the middle. Bellamy's arm wound around her as her tears finally broke free. 

"Safe passage on your travels,

"Until our final journey on the ground.

"May we meet again."

The echo rang through Arkadia in a cacophony of grief. 

"May we meet again."

"May we meet again," Bellamy whispered as the torches lowered. 

As the flames burst, a cry echoed from the forest. It wasn't a distress call, Clarke knew, but something wild. Octavia, mourning Jasper in her own way. 

"Where are you going?" Clarke grabbed Bellamy's hand as he started away. 

"I have to find her." He smiled sadly. "My sister, my responsibility."

"Bellamy..."

He leaned forward decisively and kissed her. It lasted only a few seconds, but Clarke tried to wrap her brain around the fact that it was Bellamy she was kissing, Bellamy she was falling in love with. Had been, really, since the beginning. 

"May we meet again," he repeated. 

Clarke's answer was as certain as the promise of the sunrise the next morning. "We will."

And as the flames illuminated the night sky and Bellamy's shadow disappeared through the fence, she knew this wasn't the end.


End file.
